


The Sinner's City

by C0mpr3h3n51b13



Category: Diamond Jack (Short Film 2017)
Genre: Aftermath, Anger, Backstory, Gen, Interrogation, Sassy Jack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2018-12-25 05:05:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12028728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C0mpr3h3n51b13/pseuds/C0mpr3h3n51b13
Summary: How did Jack get so far in over her head?First, there's the police, who seem to think that Jack perpetrated the bombing that she worked so hard to prevent.Then, there's the fact that the people who tried to blow up the casino are still out there.To add the cherry to the shit sundae, there's a certain detective who just doesn't know when to quit.---Based off the animation Diamond Jack. Check it out, it's awesome!





	1. The Jack of Diamonds

The interrogation room is dusty, a cloying kind of dust that makes Jack’s nose itch. It’s the worst kind of dust, the devil of a thousand allergies.

 

Jack supposes she deserves it.

 

“Okay, your name is Jacklyn Morelli, correct?” The detective sitting across from her asks. He’s the one who caught her, but she supposes she won’t hold it against him, but only if he’s nice. A couple of cookies would help, too. He’s shuffling through a monstrous pile of papers, pulling out a couple marked with yellow and green striped sticky notes. Jack recognizes a couple of her old pictures roughly stapled onto them. Was her nose always that big?

 

“Jacklyn?” The stern faced detective waves a hand in front of Jack’s face, snapping her out of her reverie.

 

“You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you, yadda yadda yadda,” The stern faced detective yawns. There’s bags underneath his eyes, and an abnormally large cup of coffee next to him.

 

“Let’s cut to the chase. Who gave you that bomb, and why did you want to blow up the casino?” Jack stayed silent, glaring sullenly into the detective’s eyes. She saved  **thousands** , and they think she meant to kill thousands.

 

“Okay, look. I want to go home, and I bet you do, too. It’s simple: we hear your side of the story, we clear things up, and you get to go home. Nice and easy. Would you like to speak?” The detective asked again. After Jack stayed silent for a long couple of seconds, he sighed and rubbed his eyes. The detective’s voice grew tired.

 

“These charges are serious, you know. Attempted murder, avoiding arrest, terrorism - These charges could put you in for life.” Jack stayed silent. She closed her eyes and leaned back, pretending to doze off. It was a little uncomfortable with the handcuffs, but if it annoyed the detective, it was worth it. Jack could emphasize with him somewhat - sure, he was just another person trying to do the right thing - but he had this look in his eyes. Jack had seen it before; it was the faces of those who would never abandon their morals. If the detective decided Jack was evil, Jack would always be evil in his eyes. Jack supposed she was the same way.

 

“You’re - you’re sleeping. In the middle of a police interrogation. Hello? Jack?” Jack felt a calloused hand on her shoulder shake her gently. She cracked one eye open ever so slightly, just enough to see the detective’s blurry outline.

 

“Damnit,” The detective mumbled, leaning backwards, “I’ll just let the other guys take care of this.” He silently sat there for a minute, and then Jack heard the subtle shift of shoes on the squeaky floor. Footsteps receded from her, heavy with exhaustion. The detective paused at the door.

 

“Fuck, why’d she have to look like my daughter?” The detective mumbled, almost inaudible. He turned around, flipping off the light switch. The harsh, fluorescent light from the hallway spilled in, casting the detective’s shadow across Jack. In that moment, the lowly detective stood as grand as a king.

 

Jack must have drifted off sometime after that. She really didn’t mean to.

 

 

 

 

_ “Jacklyn! You look so pretty in that dress!” Rachel gushed, running her fingers over the lustrous fabric of Jack’s dress. Jack blushed furiously, but gave her signature shit eating grin. _

 

_ “Call me Jack, Rachel,” Jack said, and Rachel giggled. While Jack would never feel fully comfortable in a dress, just being with Rachel made it all worthwhile. _

 

_ “Try on this next!” Rachel held up a gaudy dress with way too many sequins for Jack’s taste, but… she supposed she could give it a try. _

 

_ “Sure thing!” Jack grinned even wider, if that was possible, pulling the last dress over her head. It wasn’t like they were actually going to buy any of these dresses - they were overpriced, anyways. _

 

_ “Jack, have you found a job yet?” Rachel mentioned casually, but Jack could tell Rachel had been meaning to ask her for a while. Jack’s smile faltered. _

 

_ “You’re still working at McDonald’s, aren’t you,” Rachel said, not really a question. _

 

_ “Y-yes, but McDonald’s has some class!” Jack fumbled, “I’m not a hooker - yet!” Jack recovered, laughing. Rachel stared at her in a stern mom way. Yeesh, Jack couldn’t help that most places couldn’t handle her awesomeness! _

 

_ “You know, I just started working as a vocalist in this really nice casino. It’s called The Plaza,” _

 

_ “Hm? Are you implying something?” Jack looked up from trying to struggle on the latest dress. It was way too tight. _

 

_ “There’s a wait staff job open. I’m sure you could pull it off, especially with your charm,” Rachel wiggled her eyebrows suggestively on the word charm, causing Jack to snort. _

 

_ “Ha! Like I’d ever!” Jack teased. Despite what she said, classy waiter at a fancy casino… that did not sound like a bad job at all. _

 

 

 

 

 

“Jacklyn? Are you awake?” Jack was roused from her not so restful slumber by a soft voice calling her name. The first thing that she was aware of was that it was freezing. Antarctica could take a few tips from this place. Also, the bed Jack was on did not seem to be the most comfortable. Jack eased her eyes open, adjusting to the damp light. She pushed herself into a sitting position, glancing around. She was in a basic cell with a sink, a bed, and a  **very** exposed toilet.

 

“Ms. Morelli, I don’t have much time,” The voice called again, a bit more impatient. Jack glanced over. Behind the bars was the detective from the interrogation and the chase, still dressed in his signature brown trench coat.

 

“I’m sorry for not introducing myself earlier. My name is Detective Woods.” The detective says. Woods, was it?

 

“Fuck off, Woody,” Jack mumbles. Her mouth is dry, and her head is pounding with waves of pain; what did she sleep on, a rock?

 

“Look, I’m sorry. This is completely unrelated to the case, but I need to ask you a couple of questions.” An edge of desperation creeps into Woods’ voice, and Jack immediately picks up on it.

 

“How can I help you, detective?” Jack grins, doing a full 180 turn from her attitude earlier. Desperation is an old friend to Jack. Maybe she could get something out of this.

 

“Look at this. Please. You’re part of some terrorist group, right? Maybe you’ve seen her,” Woods says, slipping a small, crumpled picture through the bars. It’s obviously pretty old, but it’s been well preserved, like someone actually tried to take care of it.

 

“What’s her name?” Jack asked, peering at the picture. It’s a young girl, anywhere from fourteen to sixteen. She’s the sun, radiant with happiness. A younger, less stressed version of Detective Woods stands beside her, smiling as well. However, what strikes Jack most is that the girl in the picture - mini-Woods? - looks almost like Jack, except with bona fide happiness and confidence. That girl is the real deal. Jack is a pale imitation to her glory.

 

“Jessica. That’s her name. Jessica Skyler Woods,” Detective Woods says, his head dropping. He looks pale.

 

“Are you okay?” Jack asks despite herself, sliding off the bed and padding over to the bars. Detective Woods wobbles, steadying himself against the bars.

 

“I’m fine. Just give me a moment,” Detective Woods says. He’s obviously not fine. Tears are beading at his eyes, and he’s shaking, if only ever so slightly.

 

“If you get me out of this dump, I can find Jessica. I have connections,” Jack says, trying to be soothing. She never was good in this type of situation For a minute, Woods looks like he’s calming down. Then, just when Jack thinks she has a chance, he begins to grow angry. His fists ball up, and his breaths grow ragged. Jack takes one step, two, three steps back from the bars. Her trademark grin is far gone from her face.

 

“Hey man, calm down-”

 

“Calm down? My family is not some - some poker chip in your twisted game!” Jack is literally watching this man fall to pieces before her, and she can’t do anything to stop it. Jack doesn’t realize it, but she’s shaking, if only from the killing aura exuded by Woods. His fist meets the bars with a loud  _ clang. _ He stands there for a second, breaths slowly growing less erratic. Woods looks at his bloody knuckles like he’s never seen a hand before.

 

“Hey! Woods! Is everything okay?” A chubby - no, bigger, Jack’s mother told her to polite, and damn well she’s going to be - police officer walks in. Woods visibly composes himself, holding his bloody knuckles behind his back. There’s still a spot of blood dripping down the bars, and Woods smoothly steps in front of it.

 

“Yes, everything is under control,” He says effortless. Jack could almost believe herself that Woods didn’t have a  **fucking mental breakdown** in front of her five seconds ago.

 

“Good, because we have some new intel on the case!” The other officer says cheerfully. Jack blinks. This is unexpected.

 

“What is it?” Woods asks, visibly shocked as well.

 

“That gang, Arbiter, they just claimed responsibly for the case! It seems that our little lady saved quite a few lives in that casino!” The cheerful officer says like he was ordering a doughnut, not talking about the most fearsome mafia in the city.

 

“Wait - she’s innocent?” Woods asks, incredulous. Jack couldn’t believe it either. Arbiter? Why would they do something like this? It seemed completely out of character for Arbiter to try and blow up a casino. Weren’t they more… justice oriented?

“Well, we’ll need her testimony later, but the holding order has been revoked.”

 

“Arbiter? Are you sure?” Jack asks, blinking owlishly. Two focused pairs of eyes swung towards her.

 

“Well, speak of the devil! Let’s get you out and about, eh?” The cheerful officer said.

 

Jack made sure to wink at Woods on the way out.

 

“Hey! Be careful with my roller skates!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! Thanks for reading! I just loved this animation so much, I just had to write something for it! I know Jack's personality is up for interpretation, but I imagined Jack as a sassy girl with a good heart, but she can sometimes be a bit of an asshole. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it!


	2. Implied Odds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack faces the aftermath of her actions.

The ride to Jack’s apartment is short and sweet, punctuated by honking cars and the harsh grind of roller skates on pavement. Jack catches fragments of conversation as she skates past. 

 

“Hey, did you hear-”

 

“Yeah, the Plaza-”

 

“Bomb? Really?”

 

“I can’t believe it!”

 

Jack grins to herself. It’s a bit strange to hear people actually talking about something she took part in, but it’s really awesome!

 

 

 

Jack screeches to a halt in front of her apartment building so hard that she can almost see smoke rising from the pavement. The wheels pop seamlessly into her shoes. She trots up the three flights of rickety stairs.

 

 

 

Jack freezes; there’s a small slip of paper on the ground in front of door. She recalls putting it in the crack in the door, so if anyone came in, the paper would fall out. Someone has entered her apartment. Jack freezes, icy hot adrenaline fleeing through her veins. Her breath grows sluggish, suddenly far too loud for comfort. She holds her hand up to her mouth, trying to muffle the sound. Did the intruder hear her coming up the stairs? Jack gropes in her pocket for her trusty penknife. She flips it out, tightly gripping the worn handle in her sweaty hands. It’s an old friend, the blade chipped and dull from use, the handle slightly wobbly. Jack tests the doorknob, inch by inch to minimize sound. It swings open a smidge, letting out a shrill screech of displeasure.

 

 

 

It’s pitch black inside of her apartment, except for the crimson of the sunset coming in, leaving trails of bloody light on the floor. It smells musty, but with an unfamiliar sickly sweet mixed in. Jack brandishes the knife in front of herself, hand shaking. Now that Jack’s squinting, she can see a small light flickering inside, probably from one of her many dysfunctional lamps.

 

“Jacklyn Morelli! You explain yourself right this instant!” Rachel storms from Jack’s room, the very picture of rage. Jacklyn gulps.

 

“Hey, Rachel!” Jack says with a fake smile, pocketing the penknife before Rachel can see it. Rachel stands inside. Her makeup is smudged, and her normally impeccable outfit is ruffled.

 

“I was - so worried! Going and getting yourself arrested, what did I say last time? Keep your head down, and don’t get yourself in trouble again!” “Sorry, Rachel… How’d you get in my apartment, anyways?” Jack grins sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head.

 

“You left me the key so I could watch Nala,” Rachel says, holding up the key. She sighs, flopping down onto Jack's couch.

 

“Oh. Yeah - I did!” Jack sits down next to her. Jack’s cat, Nala, comes purring up, curling lazily onto Jack’s lap.

 

“Anyways, you have to see this.” Rachel says, pulling out her phone from her pocket. She already has a video pulled up, ready to go. She hits the play button, and Jack’s stomach does an Olympic gold medal back flip.

 

 

 

“Salutations. We are Arbiter,” A voice says. Voice isn’t exactly the right word, it’s more like Siri had a disastrous one night stand with Shrek. The screen is dark, save for a crude illustration of an oak tree spiraling up into the heavens.

 

“This world is doomed. We must repent for our immoral ways before the end,” The voice continues. A grainy picture of an abandoned building shows up. There’s trees twisting through the top, vines snaking up the sides like serpents. It’s clearly seen better days.

 

“The Plaza is a breeding house of sin, a place where people go to commit unspeakable acts. It must be destroyed.” A picture of revelry flashes by. There’s a fight going on, staff desperately trying control unruly patrons while utter chaos ensues. Jack recognizes herself in the corner, swatting a particularly drunk man who had tried to grope her chest.

 

“The Jack of Diamonds has chosen their allegiance. They have made a mockery of order, and are now an enemy of justice,” Jack’s face grows pale. On the screen is a short loop of Jack doing one of her signature flips on the tip of the Paza, a neighboring casino. The details are too blurry to make out, and Jack looks remarkably like a guy, but it’s still terrifying. The Jack of Diamonds - is that more than a coincidence? The only focused spot is the large, glass diamond clutched in Jack’s hand. Rachel pauses the video.

 

 

 

 

“Jack. Explanation. Now,” Rachel says, glaring daggers at Jack. Jack wilts under her gaze.

 

“Well, you see, I might have gotten a sketchy text about how the diamond had a bomb? And when I checked it out, the diamond might have had hinges?”

 

“You trusted a text from a stranger?!”

 

“Maybe?”

 

“Then, to top it all off, you ran off with the bomb and almost killed yourself!” Rachel sighs, collapsing on the couch. “What have I told you! One day, your luck is going to run out and you’re going to get yourself killed!”

 

“Sorry Rachel,” Jack says sheepishly. Rachel scoops her up into a hug. Jack reflexively tenses up, stiffening in Rachel’s firm grasp. A second later, she relaxes, returning the hug. Rachel begins to quiver, shaking softly. “What - what if something happened to you? What if that detective shot you, or the bomb exploded in you hand or if-or if-”

 

“Rachel, I’m here, it’s okay. I’ll be okay,”

 

“You- you can’t leave me like that! If something happened to you, and I-I was left here all - all alone!”

 

 

 

Jack suddenly feels like the biggest dick in the world.

 

“I’m sorry, Rachel.” She says, much different from the first time she said those words to Rachel. Jack actually means them this time, because Rachel means even more to her.

 

 

 

It’s far past midnight, and Jack pinches herself, trying to stay awake. It had been getting late, and Jack’s neighborhood was not the best, so she invite Rachel to stay over. Rachel is snuggled up in every single blanket on the fucking bed, leaving Jack cold and shivering. It’s a full moon, unusually bright, spilling long tendrils of light through Jack’s small window. She gropes for her phone, knocking over a lamp and two books in the process. When Jack finally turns on her phone, the light is blinding, making Jack groan.

 

 **Jack** : cody u up?

 

 **Cody** : No, I’m still sleeping.

 

 **Jack** : lol, can i come ovr?

 

 **Cody** : You realize it is midnight, correct?

 

 **Jack** : yea, i need to ask a favor

 

 **Cody** : Fine. Take your time; it’ll take me awhile to get dressed.

 

Jack slowly sits up and stretches, pulling on her shoes. She’s already fully dressed, her backpack stashed under the bed. She looks back at Rachel, guilt pooling in her stomach. Can she really just leave Rachel like this?

 

“Sorry to worry you, Rach. I have to make sure you’re not in danger again,” Jack whispers, gently smoothing Rachel’s hair. Rachel mumbles and turns over, but Jack is already gone.

 

 

 

The street is awash in the silvery glow of moonlight, punctuated only by the golden glow of streetlights, each their own sun. It’s eerily empty, save for the occasional hooker lounging under a lamp, or the screech of a car racing to get out of the neighborhood. The air smells of misery: cigarette smoke and the sickly sweet smell of drugs mixed in with trash. Jack speeds past them all, wind in her hair, the bumpy sidewalk under her roller blades. The scene gradually changes from decrepit, tumbling skyscrapers to something a little more stable, a little more homey. The air begins to smell simply of smog, without the tainted odors present in the other scene. Jack screeches to a halt in her usual fashion, retracting her wheels. She’s in front of a small house. The lawn desperately needs a trim, and the paint is peeling, but it’s clearly occupied.

 

 

 

She walks up the ramp and rings the doorbell, wincing as it screeches like wet cat.

 

“Jack! Come in! The door’s unlocked” She hears Cody yell from inside. His voice is high pitched, but not unpleasant.

 

“Coming!” Jack yells back, going inside. It’s warm and dark. As Jack walks forward, she sees a dim light at the end of the hallway. Softly illuminated by this light is a boy in pajamas, sitting at a desk. Computer monitors surround him, as well as a half eaten box of pizza and some sprite.

 

“Hey Cody, what’s up?” Jacks says, grinning.

 

“Oh! Hi, Jack!” Cody glances up from his monitor, “You were the one in that Arbiter video released today, weren’t you? Jack of Diamonds?”

 

“Yeah. I need to ask a favor.”

 

“I figured. By the way, I owe you big time. The Plaza is one of my biggest sources of income, so you saved all that from going down the drain. Pizza’s on me.” Cody wheels himself away from the desk, skillfully navigating his wheelchair over the pizza boxes strewn haphazardly across the floor. He goes to the kitchen, picks up a piece of pizza, and sticks it in the microwave.

 

“So, what do you want?” He asks.

 

“I want you to track the location of where the video was posted.” Jack says, following Cody into the kitchen. The yellow light from the microwave spills out, the only source of light.

 

“I can do that. I’m assuming you have some really stupid and reckless plan from there, but I know nothing I say can stop you.” Jack laughs.

 

“You know me too well. How quick can you get the location to me? I have to be back by sunrise, or else Rachel will know I’m up to something.” A ghost of a smile crosses Cody’s face.

 

“Ah, Rachel. Send her my regards. Or don’t actually, she’ll get worried. Anyways, I can definitely get you that location. Just promise me something.” Jack looks up in confusion.

 

“What?” She asks.

 

“Don’t get into anything you can’t handle. You’ve gotten me out of some deep ends before, and I don’t want to see you in any.” Cody is still facing towards the pizza, not looking at Jack. Jack grins as the microwave goes dark, only her eyes visible.

 

“Don’t worry, Cody. I have one of the world’s greatest hackers on my side, don’t I?” Cody chuckles.

 

“You flatter me. Now, let’s we what we can do about that location.”

 

 

 

When Rachel wakes up, Jack is flipping pancakes in the kitchen of her apartment, with a set of coordinates tucked into her back pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for all your nice feedback! It made me really happy. :D I also need to get this out of the way: If I write something offensive to you in any way, shape, or form, tell me, and I'll change it ASAP. This is my first time writing in a character who is differently abled, so I hope you'll be patient with me. I hope you like the chapter, and have an awesome day!


	3. The Cashier's Cage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit goes down.

The overwhelmingly loud noise was the first thing that hit Jack. People screamed, and somewhere, a pianist roughly tapped out the eight-bar blues while people yowled off key besides them. Gigantic spotlights glared up into the night sky, gigantic middle fingers to every force of justice in the city.  If Cody’s coordinates were correct, that is.

 

 

 

Jack straightened her perfectly ironed tie, carefully buttoning her vest. The other servers bustled around her, collecting tipsy, towering trays of mini sandwiches, fizzy bottles of champagne, and sweet chocolate strawberries, all ready to serve to the partygoers. Jack grinned. It was the perfect disguise. What person does no one pay any attention to, but can hear all?

 

 

 

It’s the waiter, of course.

 

 

 

“Hey Jack, are you ready? It’s going to be a busy night!” One of Jack’s fellow waiters said. Elisa, was it? Eliza? Alisha?

 

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be!” Jack chirped back, plastering on a fake smile. She reached down, carefully balancing her crystal flutes of champagne. Heavier than the cups of champagne was the small knife hidden deep in her pocket. Jack took a deep breath. Whoever bombed The Plaza could be in there, and they probably were, according to Cody. What if she died? What if something worse happened? Would Rachel be okay?

 

“Hey… Elena?” Jack asked, reaching out for her retreating acquaintance.

 

“It’s Eliza,” Eliza corrected.

 

“Eliza,” Jack said, taking a deep breath, “Just… be safe out there, okay?” Eliza gave Jack a strange look before turning away.

 

“Yeah. I will.”

 

 

 

Jack winced. The lights inside were borderline blinding, the music crashing inside of her chest. The revelers inside were packed like sardines, and Jack felt like the next course.

 

“Are you ready for this!?” The DJ screamed. “This… This…” Echoed in time to the ebbing beat of the music. A loud cheer erupted from those gathered. A hand reached across Jack, picking a glass of champagne off of her tray. Jack flinched away, only to fall back into someone else.

 

“Hey, watch where you’re going!”

 

The room spun, fading into a haze of strong smelling liquor, flashing lights, and the press of hot bodies. Jack stumbled, probably dropping about 5 glasses of champagne in the process, but she didn’t care. She just had to get out. Jack stumbled into a wall, sweaty fingers closing around a doorknob. She nearly fell inside, sliding to the floor. The world flashed white.

 

 

 

“Hey! Jacklyn, are you okay?” A panicked voice snapped Jack out of it. It was… familiar. Who was it again?

 

“Fuck you too, Woods.” Slipped out of Jack’s mouth. It seemed her mouth was working much better than her head, because there he was, Detective Woods. He was standing over Jack, a worried expression on his face. Why was he at a party? Wasn’t he supposed to be doing detective-y shit?

 

“What seems to be the problem here, Mr. Miller?” A deep voice said, coming from somewhere behind Woods. It sent shivers down Jack’s spine, causing her hair to stand up on end. This wasn’t her simple idiot-ometer 2000. No, this was different.

 

“Nothing, sir. Just a server who stumbled in.” Woods replied. His shoulders tensed up, Jack foggily noticed. This room didn’t smell like booze. It smelled like… incense.

 

“How curious. You two seem to know each other quite well,” The voice said, still out of sight. Woods stiffened further, eyeing the exit.

 

“She looks like my daughter,” Woods said.

 

“I don’t recall you having a daughter, Mr. Miller. And what did she call you? Woods, was it? It almost reminds me of the infamous Detective Woods.”

 

“Woods? Never heard of him,” Detective Woods responded.

 

“You truly have never heard of him?” The voice continued, its voice becoming honeyed.

 

“Nope,” Woods said.

 

“Well, you can never blame a man for being too careful.” The voice chuckled, low and menacing, “Au revoir, Detective Woods.”

 

 

 

Jack lurched to her feet, brandishing her knife. The world spun dangerously underneath her, but she didn’t care.

 

“Back off!” She growled, her voice cracking. It hurt like hell but sounded pretty damn intimidating if she said so herself. Woods seemed to get the memo, and ran for the door. He threw his weight down on the doorknob.

 

“Locked!” He yelled to Jack. Jack lowered her weight, digging her feet into the floor. Woods drew a gun from what seemed like nowhere, a small thing that didn’t seem like it packed a lot of punch. It shook in his hands like a fish out of water. Jack quieted her breath, trying to calm her erratic heartbeat. A slight hissing noise filled the air.

 

“Gas! Deep breath!” Jack yelled. Wood’s eyes widened. Adrenaline coursed through Jack’s nerves like white-hot lightning. She rammed the door with the shoulder. _Thump._ It didn’t budge.

 

“Help! Someone let us out of here!” Woods called. There was no response. Jack could faintly hear the music, drowning out Woods’ cry. _Thump._ She tried ramming the door again, and a stinging pain bloomed in her shoulder. She didn’t care. _Thump._ Blackness threatened to overtake the edges of her vision.

 

“Mission compromised. Subject using some kind of gas. Repeat…” Woods was saying. Jack tuned out at that point. It’s kind of hard to listen to people when you’re being gassed.

 

 

 

“Jacklyn? Jacklyn, are you alright?” For the second time, Jacklyn heard a familiar voice pulling her into wakefulness. She hoped it wouldn’t become a pattern.

 

“Five more minutes…” She groaned. Jack tried to rub her eyes, but her hands wouldn’t move. Jack tried again.

 

“Please stop moving your hands. It hurts.” Wood’s voice came from behind Jack. The ropes dug uncomfortably into Jack’s skin - wait, ropes?!

 

“Woods - Woods, where are we?!” Jack asked, panic starting to build in her system. Her hands were bound firmly against her back, and Woods was behind her, probably in the same position.

 

“Calm down, Jacklyn. Are you alright? Do you have any injuries?” Woods replied.

 

“I’m as good as someone who just got gassed and then tied up and blindfolded.” Woods snorted.

 

“Looks like the sarcasm module is intact. Seriously, though.”

 

“My shoulder feels like Satan took a shit on it. You?”

 

“Heh. My head feels the same way. Great going, Jacklyn.”

 

“Hey! How was I supposed to know you were doing some undercover stuff or something?” Jack protested. Woods sighed, and Jack felt him lean against her a bit more.

 

“Why didn’t the spooky guy kill us?” Jack asked.

 

“Well, he probably wants to hold us hostage. That would be the best case scenario.” Woods said.

 

“Worst case?” Jack asked, fear building in her gut.

 

“He kills us both to make an example.”

 

“Well, shit.”

 

“That’s pretty accurate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> If you haven't picked it up by now, this story isn't very accurate when it comes to police proceedings. XD Also, the gas used on Woods and Jack wouldn't work like that. There is gas like that that exists, but there's around a 15% fatality rate. I also couldn't find how long it takes to set in, so I took my own experience with stuff like that and said about 2 minutes. It's pretty interesting stuff, though. Also, thanks for the nice comments! It really keeps me going! :D Welp, have a nice day!


	4. 86

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since I haven't posted in a while, I'll put a summary up until this point here. Jack and Woods are currently tied up in an unknown location. It's unknown why Woods is there, but Jack got the coordinates from Cody, her hacker friend. She went to the coordinates to gather information and was captured, thus the being tied up. Enjoy!

“I spy with my little eye… something black.”

 

“Jacklyn, you’re blindfolded. I’m blindfolded.”

 

“You have to guess!”

 

“Darkness.”

 

“Correct!” Jack cackled. It had been… an hour? A day? A week? It felt like an eternity.

 

“How are you so cheerful? We’re held hostage by a lunatic! We could die any second!” Woods yelled, the sound echoing. Jack felt her clammy hands, the cold sweat running down her back, and the electricity coursing through her veins.

 

“Hey, deep breaths. I’m alive. You’re alive,” Jack said. She heard Woods stiffen, and then relax. The blindfold heightened Jack’s senses. She could feel her limbs protesting against the ropes taut against her hands. Woods’ back felt warm against her, but the chill of the room where they resided was mind-numbing. She could feel the fear of captivity laced in with mind-numbing boredom. The desperate hope that something, anything would happen filled her. The darkness of the blindfold seemed to consume her, and she saw; she saw the parents which she so hated. She saw her "friends" on the casino staff. She saw Cody’s ingenuity, Woods’ desperation, and Rachel’s powerful love.

 

“Woods? You there?” Jack asked.

 

“Yeah. What do you want?” Woods said. He sounded hopeless.

 

“We’re going to make it out of here. But… if something happened, is there anything you want me to pass on?”

 

“You’ve given up too,” Woods stated, his voice hollow.

 

“No! It’s just in case.” Jack protested. It was silent for a minute.

 

“Tell Jessica that…” Woods paused and swallowed, “that I love her more than anything, and that I’m sorry I was too late.” Jack felt a pang of guilt. What would it be like to look at the mirror image of someone you had loved and lost?

 

“If you don’t make it out of here, what would you like me to pass on?” Woods asked. Jack paused.

 

“I want you to tell Rachel I love her.” Jack felt tears running down the side of her face. “And… I don’t…” Jack struggled for words, sobs wracking her chest, “I-I don’t w-want to be for-forgotten.” Unable to say anything else, Jack lapsed into silence, only broken by the sounds of her sobs.

 

 

 

 

Sometime, someone walked in and silently gave Jack and Woods some sort of sickly sweet liquid from a bottle. Jack guzzled it down, not caring what it was. It wasn’t the best idea, but Jack’s dry mouth won over her sensible head. After that, the person left the room, making the total amount of people in the room 3: Woods, Jack, and silence.

 

 

 

 

_Jack strode through The Plaza, a plate of drinks balanced on one hand. Her dress was perfect, the result of one of Rachel’s shopping trips. Her customers all walked away with a better day, giving her a smug sense of satisfaction. It was almost like the feeling after a successful heist: the sense of a job well done._

 

_“Heya sweetie, what’re you doing in a place like this?” A voice slurred from beside her. Something grabbed her wrist with an iron-hard grip. She tried to pull away, but the hand remained firmly attached._

 

_“A pretty thing like you doesn’t belong here. Why don’t we head back to my place and have some fun?” Jack turned to face the voice, and a wave of nausea hit her. The man looked like a normal worker, but the smell of beer emanating from him was overwhelming._

 

_“Please let go of my hand,” Jack said. She tried to keep the fear off her face, but it was like the man could smell it._

 

_“Hey, don’t be unreasonable. Smile a bit!” The smile on the man’s face grew. Jack’s knife felt heavy in her pocket._

 

_“Back off!” Jack snarled. The man still held on. She clenched her other fist, ready to punch him, but aware of the consequences._

 

_“Timothy Jones?” A clear voice said._

 

_“Fuck off, can’t you see I’m trying to get a girl!”_

 

_“It doesn’t seem like the girl wants that. Anyways, what would your wife think if she saw you here?” Timothy’s grip loosened for a second, and then returned._

 

_“My wife doesn’t need to know, asshole.”_

 

_“Oh really? I have her number pulled up right here. Are you sure you want to continue?” The man paused, trying to read the other’s gambit._

 

_“Fine,” He mumbled, backing off. Jack relaxed, bringing her hand away from her knife._

 

 

 

 

_“Hey, are you okay?” Her rescuer asked._

 

_“Yeah. A few bruises, but nothing time won’t handle.” Jack turned around to see a skinny kid in a wheelchair, his nose stuck in a phone._

 

_“Did you know him?”_

 

_“Naw. I ran his face through facial recognition, and then found his Facebook page.” Jack whistled._

 

_“Impressive. The name’s Jacklyn, but you can call me Jack. She stuck out her hand to the kid._

 

_“Cody,” He said, taking her hand. A long fart sound rang out. Jack stared for a second and then burst out laughing._

 

_“Old whoopie cushion in the hand trick. It gets people every time,” Cody grinned. “Ha! You totally stole that idea!” Jack teased,_

 

_“Well, I need to get back to work, but I hope I see you around!” Jack walked away._

 

_“Wait!” Cody shouted after her. Jack turned._

 

_“You should get something to defend yourself. What if something else happ-” Jack grinned, tossing her knife up into the air. The dim lights caught it with a satisfying glint._

 

_“I already have. Goodnight, Cody.” Jack left, leaving Cody speechless behind._

 

 

 

 

_That was the last time she wore a dress to work._

 

 

 

 

“Jack,” Woods hissed. Jack groaned.

 

“Jack, this is important,” Woods whispered again.

 

“Whuzzup,” Jack mumbled. The dream still floated in her mind, taunting her.

 

“My blindfold fell off,” Woods whispered. Jack’s eyes snapped open.

 

“What do you see?” She whispered back, butterflies building in her stomach.

 

“We’re in a small room. There are no windows, but the door is open. There’s one guard at the door, but he’s asleep,” Woods said. Jack’s thief senses began to tingle. Here was a problem she could solve!

 

“Does the guard have anything on him?” Jack asked.

 

“He has a handgun on his lap, but I can’t see anything else.”

 

“Great. Let’s stand up on the count of three. Three, two, one!” Jack and Woods awkwardly shuffled to their feet, not helped by the fact they were tied together.

 

“Guide me over to where the guard is,” Jack ordered. Woods dragged Jack over to a spot.

 

“Here?” She asked.

 

“Yep.” He replied. Jack bent her knees, extending her tied hands over to where she thought the gun would be.

 

“What are you doing?” Woods hissed.

 

“Trust me, I’m a thief,” Jack grinned, “Now, how close am I to it?” Woods sighed.

 

“A little to the left - there.” Jack’s fingers closed around the handle. She grinned devilishly.

 

“Stay still,” she warned.

 

“Wait for a second, what are you going to-” With a confidence born from years of practice and a fair bit of self-delusion, Jack fired. The ropes fell from Jack and Woods’ hands. The guard jerked awake, but Jack was faster. She swung the gun in the direction of his head, feeling it hit with a thud. Woods sprung into action, tying up the unconscious guard. Jack pulled off her blindfold. She winced at the sudden light.

 

“Are you crazy? You could have shot me!” Woods said.

 

“Chill, I didn’t shoot you.” Woods sighed.

 

“I don’t know what I’d expect from a th- wait, you’re a thief?” Woods jumped back a bit. Jack laughed.

 

“Well, ex-thief. It’s better than being a murderer.” Jack shrugged, turning towards Woods. Woods scoffed.

 

“You realize you’re talking to a detective, right?”

 

“I said I was an ex-thief, not a thief. I paid my dues.” Woods shrugged. “I’ll deal with it afterward. We need to move,” He said.

 

“A thief. Great,” Jack swore Woods mumbled under his breath, but it might have been the wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This one is a little unedited, so if you catch something, please let me know. Also, leave a review if you want, I love to hear what you all have to say! Have an awesome day!


	5. Seventh Street

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So far, Jack and Woods ended up captured by an unknown person. They're free, but still inside the building where they're being held.
> 
> I need to tag my stuff better, so:
> 
> This chapter is where the graphic description of violence tag comes into play. Nothing super hardcore, but it's still violence. Happy reading!

Jack bent down, taking off both of her shoes.

  

“What are you doing?” Woods hissed. Jack put her finger to her mouth, and motioned for him to stay still. She crept forward as  silently  as the wind. Woods took one step forward. _Creak!_ Jack winced.

 

“Why don’t you stay here? I’ll look for a way out,” Jack suggested. Anything to get this lumbering sheep out of the way.

 

“What? Are you trying to get me killed?” Woods said a bit too  loudly  for Jack’s liking. Jack  frantically  shushed him.

“Here,” She said, tossing the gun to Woods. He fumbled with it for a second, and it clattered to the floor. Jack facepalmed.

 

“Jacklyn, I don’t know how to use a gun!” Woods protested.

“Weren’t you carrying one earlier?”

“It didn't have any ammunition! I’m a detective, not a police officer!” Jack sighed.

“Look, if someone comes near you, I’ll come and take care of it, okay?” Jack said. She took the gun from Wood’s hand, making sure the safety was on. Her knife felt better in her hand, but a weapon was better than none.

 

 

 

 

 

The area was strange; it was a single hallway that went straight ahead. Jack’s footsteps echoed off the dirty tiles. There were little rooms that branched off of the sides, they seemed like offices. The fluorescent light flickered  harshly, threatening to pitch Jack into darkness. Jack felt like a rubber band stretched too thin, like a whale lumbering across a glass ceiling. She peered into one of the side rooms. It was  spotlessly  empty. It was sort of like a reverse heist, Jack thought. Before, she had been trying to break in, but now, she was trying to break out. 

It felt the same as one of her stunts.  The lightheadedness was there, the sense of giddiness that came with defying the rules. Jack knew the consequences weren’t the same. She wasn’t doing this for herself anymore; Woods’ life depended on her. It scared Jack. It scared her because she knew she wasn’t dependable, that the thread of life she and Woods held on to was wearing thin.

Footsteps snapped Jack out of her reverie, and she darted out of sight of the hallway. 

 

 

 

 

 

“Hey, did you see the game last night?” A voice drifted in. If Jack wasn’t fucking kidnapped, she might have ignored it all together.

   

“Yeah! The Aces crushed them!” A second voice said, laughing. The footsteps  slowly  faded, leaving Jack with a sense of foreboding she couldn’t quite place.

 

 

 

 

 

Each new room was a new surprise, and that wasn’t a good thing. One room contained sleeping bags and a fridge chock full of liquorice. Why liquorice of all things? Why not a respectable candy? Liquorice was the criminals of the candy world, Jack decided. It was too nasty to be anything else. Another room had contained a live, sleeping person. Jack hightailed it out of there faster than she could say parakeet on a purple pickle. The last room had contained… well, Jack didn’t want to talk about it. It made every particle in her tremble, like she had downed five of Big Steve’s Wake-Up Special.

 

 

 

It didn’t occur to her that  maybe  she should have paid attention for one fucking moment until she heard the screams.

 

 

 

 

 

Jack sprinted down the hallway, all thoughts of stealth shredded by her panic.

“Woods!” She yelled, reaching down for the gun. Her hands were shaking like a fish out of water; the gun was out of the equation. She slammed into the door with blazing ferocity. It burst open in an explosion of splinters.

Woods  was pinned  on the ground by a snarling bear of a man, struggling against him with his entire being. The man held Woods in an inescapable chokehold. Woods punched and kicked and flailed, but the man-bear fought back stronger. Woods’ eyes met Jack’s, and she saw a flare of hope in them against all odds.

 

“Let go of Woods!” She ordered, her voice shaking like an earthquake. Jack pointed the gun towards the bear-man, but it shook too. The bear-man looked up, his chokehold on Woods steady.

 

_ A human can survive three weeks without food, three days without water, three hours without shelter, and three minutes without air. _

There was three minutes until every brain cell in Woods’ head suffocated. It terrified Jack, how precarious the rope of life frayed. The bear-man looked up, glowering at Jack. He grinned, his teeth filed down to points.

“Let go of Woods!” Jack yelled again, her voice less shaky this time. Wood’s struggles were becoming more feeble as color drained from his face.

“You won’t shoot that gun.” Bear-man said with absolute certainty. A fresh surge of rage flowed through Jack. In that moment, she was the eye of the storm.

 

“Agh!” Bear-man roared, clutching at his leg. Jack didn’t even recall pulling the trigger, yet the gun sizzled in her hand. When someone died in the movies, it was clean and simple. Someone pulled the trigger, and a clean, precise hole appeared somewhere on the victim. It was nothing like that. The bullet ripped through the Bear-man, sending him tumbling off of Woods. Woods gasped for air, coughing  violently. Jack’s rage fueled clarity wore off, and she ran headfirst into the storm once again.

 

 

 

 

 

“Woods! Are you okay?” Jack asked, running over to his side. The gun clattered to the floor.

 

“Could be better,” Woods coughed. Purplish marks were already emerging on his throat. The bear-man was struggling to stand up, and Jack lunged for him.  Without the bullet wound, she would have been no match for him, but all it took was a kick to his wounded shin for the bear-man to stop his roaring. Jack undid her scarlet tie, tying a clever knot around his hands.

 

“There, I got him tied up,” She said to Woods, turning towards him. Woods struggled to come to his feet, and Jack hurried over, extending an arm to him.

 

“Thanks,” He said, his voice still raspy.

“You scream like a little kid.” Jack teased, pulling him up. “It saved your life.” Woods laughed, but it turned into another fit of coughs. He bent over, picking his hat off from the ground and dusting it off. Woods limped over to the dazed bear-man, reaching inside his jacket. He produced a wallet, and started rifling through it.

 

“Raymond Emerson, aged 32.” Woods said, but it seemed more for himself than Jack. “Has a kid, unhappy marriage. Recently divorced. Former lawyer, but doesn’t practice anymore.” Jack whistled.

 

“How’d you do that?” She asked. Woods looked up, startled. He blinked.

 

“He has an indentation on his ring finger, indicating a past wedding ring. I found his ID and family photo in the wallet. There’s no money in there, indicating that he’s out of work. Also, he has a prosecutor's badge there, too.”

 

“Oh. It sounds so simple now that you say it.” Jack said. Woods laughed.

 

“In the words of an old friend: ‘A detective's ability isn’t built on logic, but on their ability to be nosy.’” Woods’ eyes lit up, but dimmed a second later.

 

 

 

 

“Hey Ray, what going on? I heard some noises-” Jack and Woods  simultaneously  looked up at the woman in the doorway. The woman stared back in shock for a second, before reaching for a radio at her waist. Jack grabbed Woods’ sleeve, barreling through the doorway.

 

“Hurry!” She yelled, dragging Woods behind her down the  seemingly  endless hallway.

 

“Prisoners escaping block beta 2! I repeat-” The woman barked into her radio. Woods stumbled behind Jack, but she kept dragging him along. They tested the limits of endurance, pushing themselves far past what seemed possible. Woods shambled along, bruised and bloody. Jack trembled as she ran, exhausted to her limits. The footsteps always seemed one corner away from them, voices raised far too loud.

 

“This way!” Jack hissed, ducking into a staircase. She closed the door, hearing the lock click shut behind them.

 

 

 

 

 

Jack and Woods collapsed against the wall, panting and puffing. Voices echoed from underneath them, but no footsteps bounced off the concrete steps.

 

“We’re safe,” Woods sighed. The chill of the concrete was welcome against their sweaty skin. Jack leaned against Woods, feeling his clammy warmth against hers. To her surprise, Woods didn’t object, instead shifting so Jack head was in a more comfortable position.  Jack could feel Woods’ heartbeat against hers, a feeble, irregular beat, but it was a miracle the little thing was still going.

 

“Jack… you saved my life,” Woods said after what felt like an eternity, “I’m in your debt.”

 

“Save you silly debts for when we’re out of here. Then you can buy me a pizza.”

“A pizza? That’s all you ask for in return for a life debt, Jacklyn?” 

 

“Call me Jack, Woods.” Jack grinned, holding out her hand. Woods looked stunned, and then took her hand, gripping it  tightly.

“Connor. Connor Woods,” Woods said, and then smiled.

 

“Check up here!” A voice drifted up, and the moment broke.

 

 

 

 

 

Jack and Woods bolted up the stairs. The voices were coming closer, closer, and all Jack could think was: _I don’t want to die._ It echoed in her head over and over again, becoming an all consuming rhythm guiding her footsteps.

 

“Jack, this is it. What do we do now?” Woods asked, and it took Jack a full second to process that she was standing in front of a door. The stairs went no further.

 

“Go through the door, I guess,” Jack said, and she pushed open the door. Outside was a long, flat rooftop.  A helicopter circled overhead, and the ground below was lit with a vibrant sea of blue and red flashing lights. It was nighttime; Jack had lost all sense of time during her captivity. It was almost dizzying how far the ground was below. Jack felt the wind rushing through her hair, and it made her happy in a basic way.

“Jack, watch out!” Woods called, running towards her.

  

“Hey, it’s fine, there’s nothing here!” Jack called back, shoulders sagging in relief.

 

 

 

Boy was she wrong.

Jack felt something brush up against the side of her head, and a hand looped around her neck. She reached her hand up, and there was a gun to her head.

“We don’t have to do this,” Jack swallowed  dryly.

“Shut up,” The person holding the sword to her neck hissed.  They took one step back, two steps back, and Jack  was dragged  along with them until her captor’s feet were at the edge of the building. They swayed in the wind, along with Jack’s stomach. Woods stiffened, shock washing over him.

“Put your hands up and kneel on the ground!” Her captive shouted. Woods complied.  People on the ground were starting to take notice of the figures on the roof, a ripple of shock coursing through the crowd. The helicopter circled closer, shining a blinding light on Jack and her captor.

“Drop your weapon!” The helicopter ordered, the voice of god thundering through the sky. The butt of the gun smashed into of Jack’s head. Stars flashed before her eyes. For a second, she could think of nothing but the pain, but it eased into a dull throbbing under the rush of adrenaline.

 

“If I fall, he falls with me!” Her captor yelled. _I don’t want to die._ It repeated in her head over and over again. _I don’t want to die._ Cody. Woods. Mom and Dad. All her fake friends at The Plaza, all her acquaintances on the street.  They flashed through her mind at the side of that  impossibly  tall building, slurring into one desperate attempt at survival.

 

 

 

Rachel.

 

 

 

A plan hatched in Jack’s mind,  probably  impossible and definitely terrible, but a plan nonetheless.

“Distract him,” Jack mouthed. Woods looked confused for a second, and then got the meaning.

 

“Hey!” Woods shouted. He stood up very  slowly, keeping his arms outstretched. The man’s grip tightened on Jack, but they weren’t falling. Woods glanced  helplessly  at Jack, and she nodded. Her hand inched closer to the man’s belt.

“Pink Princess is the best show, and nothing you say will change my mind!” Woods shouted. The man’s grip loosened for a split second, and that was all Jack needed. She lunged for the knife at his belt, stomping on his foot and reeling away. He roared in pain, throwing himself sideways, away from the ledge. Jack now could see him, a grizzled wraith of a man in combat fatigues. He scrambled for his dropped gun, and Jack saw anger in his eyes, pure terrifying rage. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think, her limbs felt like lead-

 

 

 

_Bang._

 

 

 

He dropped to the ground. Blood pooled around his head, and he twitched once, twice, and then lay still. His eyes no longer held the world shattering fury, instead they gazed  vacantly  at the night sky. Jack felt frozen. Ten seconds. That was all it took for his life to end.

 

“Jack,” Woods tugged at her sleeve, “Jack, he have to go.” Jack looked over, and the helicopter had landed. A sniper was sitting at the edge, waving. Jack felt sick.

 

“Jack,” Woods said again, and Woods pulled her up. They leaned on each other, half walking, half shambling to the helicopter.

 

“Hostages cleared.” The helicopter pilot said into the radio as Jack and Woods collapsed on the floor. “Prepare for initial assault.”

 

 

  

This was nothing like a heist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks for reading!  
> Sorry for not posting in a really long time. This one's a bit longer, so I hope that makes up for it! If you have any feedback or critique, I'd love to hear it!  
> Have a nice day! :D


	6. Chapter 6

Silence blanketed Jack’s apartment, but gunshots still rang out in her mind. She huddled under a fuzzy blanket, a mug of tea in her hand, but something in her felt cold. It bit at her core, and she shivered, unable to warm up. After the flashing lights had faded, Jack had stumbled back to her apartment in a daze. She had turned the shower on scalding hot, but the shivering didn’t stop. Now, she sat with the lights off, listening to her phone ring over and over and over. The tinny ringtone that Jack never bothered to change echoed, but Jack couldn’t find the will to turn it off.

 

_Ding dong._

 

The doorbell rang, but Jack didn’t move.

 

_Ding ding ding dong dingdingdingdingdingdingding dong._ It called shrilly. Jack sighed and pulled herself up, shuffling over to the doorway. A wave of sleepiness washed over her, and she inched the door open.

 

 

 

“Rachel?” Jack asked, too numb to respond. Before Jack could respond, Rachel pulled her into a hug. Instinctively, Jack struggled, thrashing out of Rachel’s grip. She stood there for a second, panting, heart racing.

“Jack?” Rachel asked, and Jack saw the concern on Rachel’s face, and Jack’s face flushed with embarrassment.

“Uh, sorry,” Jack said, her face burning, “Do you want to come in?” Jack walked inside, flicking on the lights.

“It’s sweltering in here,” Rachel observed.

“Yeah, I was cold,” Jack said lamely.

“Jack, it’s eighty one degrees outside.” Jack shrugged. She pulled her blanket tighter around herself while Rachel put something down on the kitchen counter. Jack dimly realized how dark it was in the living room. All the shades were pulled down while light spilled in from the front hallway. Rachel flicked on the lights, and Jack hissed, shielding her eyes.

“I brought cookies. Do you want some?” Rachel asked. Jack shook her head.

“I already ate,” Jack lied. Her stomach felt like a pit of rocks, but the very idea of food felt repulsive.

“I’ve never seen you refuse cookies, Jack. Are you okay?” Rachel asked. Jack opened her mouth to lie, to say she was okay, but the words couldn’t come out. Jack slumped onto the couch. Rachel walked over and sat next to her.

“Do you feel comfortable talking about it?” Rachel asked, and Jack gestured to the TV remote. Rachel turned the TV on.

“Eight Hostages Dead in Terrorist Attack,” The TV proclaimed, and there was footage of Jack on the roof with the man holding her hostage.

“If I fall, he falls with me!” He shouted all over again, and Jack felt it like a blow to the stomach. “Right after we left,” Jack swallowed, “they killed the other hostages. If I hadn’t left…” Jack trailed off, tears building in her eyes.

“They would have been alive,” Rachel finished. Jack nodded, leaning into Rachel. They stayed like that for a long time, so long that Jack lost track of time.

 

Having Rachel didn’t make the world better, but she was so, so warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is pretty short, but I hope you like it! :D Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! Thanks for reading! I just loved this animation so much, I just had to write something for it! I know Jack's personality is up for interpretation, but I imagined Jack as a sassy girl with a good heart, but she can sometimes be a bit of an asshole. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it!


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